A Hundred Oneshots for a Hundred Prompts
by NCC-24601
Summary: In which I swing in late to join in PinkXCloud's and SpellboundWinter's challenge thing. Focusing a bit on Crenny (obviously) and Stendy. No promises of anything so I'll rate M just to play safe.
1. Introduction

**Hi.**

**So I'm latching on to what now stands at a three person bandwagon with this hundred oneshot challenge thing, an idea from Gaia's CSIBeauty. These'll likely be a bit shit compared to some of my other stuff, and it's not like I have much better to do except for my grand killathon and the SPBB, which is taking its sweet time.**

**This could give me quite a few ideas so it could be something of a slush pile that one day I might reach into and bring something out of it. Also, as with the other guys, I will be focusing on pairings in this, namely Crenny because of fucking course it is, and I'd really like to do Kendy but that'd overload the Kenny in this so instead I've opted for Stendy because that's almost as good. **

**I suspect the balance will be Crenny heavy, by the way.**

**Style was too obvious. Sorry.**

**Here is the list of prompts that I'll be using. **

1\. Introduction (this one)  
2\. Love  
3\. Light  
4\. Dark  
5\. Seeking Solace  
6\. Break Away  
7\. Heaven  
8\. Innocence  
9\. Drive  
10\. Breathe Again  
11\. Memory  
12\. Insanity  
13\. Misfortune  
14\. Smile  
15\. Silence  
16\. Questioning  
17\. Blood  
18\. Rainbow  
19\. Gray  
20\. Fortitude  
21\. Vacation  
22\. Mother Nature  
23\. Cat  
24\. No Time  
25\. Trouble Lurking  
26\. Tears  
27\. Foreign  
28\. Sorrow  
29\. Happiness  
30\. Under the Rain  
31\. Flowers  
32\. Night  
33\. Expectations  
34\. Stars  
35\. Hold My Hand  
36\. Precious Treasure  
37\. Eyes  
38\. Abandoned  
39\. Dreams  
40\. Rated  
41\. Teamwork  
42\. Standing Still  
43\. Dying  
44\. Two Roads  
45\. Illusion  
46\. Family  
47\. Creation  
48\. Childhood  
49\. Stripes  
50\. Breaking the Rules  
51\. Sport  
52\. Deep in Thought  
53\. Keeping a Secret  
54\. Tower  
55\. Waiting  
56\. Danger Ahead  
57\. Sacrifice  
58\. Kick in the Head  
59\. No Way Out  
60\. Rejection  
61\. Fairy Tale  
62\. Magic  
63\. Do Not Disturb  
64\. Multitasking  
65\. Horror  
66\. Traps  
67\. Playing the Melody  
68\. Hero  
69\. Annoyance  
70\. 67%  
71\. Obsession  
72\. Mischief Managed  
73\. I Can't  
74\. Are You Challenging Me?  
75\. Mirror  
76\. Broken Pieces  
77\. Test  
78\. Drink  
79\. Starvation  
80\. Words  
81\. Pen and Paper  
82\. Can You Hear Me?  
83\. Heal  
84\. Out Cold  
85\. Spiral  
86\. Seeing Red  
87\. Food  
88\. Pain  
89\. Through the Fire  
90\. Triangle  
91\. Drowning  
92\. All That I Have  
93\. Give Up  
94\. Last Hope  
95\. Advertisement  
96\. In the Storm  
97\. Safety First  
98\. Puzzle  
99\. Solitude  
100\. Relaxation

**Please do give me some feedback on these, or I might do some stupid things.**


	2. Love

Kenny slumped back. This was revolting. Assignments normally were, but he liked the short ones where he answered four questions he knew the answer to or could take a reasonable guess at. Essay questions, on the other hand, were absolutely revolting.

This one, though, made the others look like absolute gold, encrusted with gemstones and titties. He had a title down and that was it.

"_What is love to you?_"

He reached for his phone. Maybe he could at least bum a bit of information off someone. He opened up his contact book and scrolled down. _Let's see…_

Kyle. No. Kyle was good with this sort of thing but he also had serious reservations about sharing work. Cartman. As if. Clyde? That could- No.

He had to go through most of his contact list to get to someone who could fulfil both conditions - that they could give a bit of an answer, and also could be persuaded to divulge sections of the answer. Craig Tucker.

He started the call. Three rings. Then the ringing stopped and a light hiss came down the line. That was usual, Craig didn't generally say hi. Kenny spoke first, then. "Craig?"

"What?"

"I need help on the assignment."

"The love one?"

"Mhm."

There was a few seconds of pause, then Craig spoke again. "If this is another lame attempt at propositioning me, then you can forget it." Kenny flinched, but admittedly he did deserve that. To an extent, anyway. He had been badgering Craig a little too much for that. It was a good idea, Kenny thought - him and Craig shared a few of the more self destructive interests. Smoking, drinking, weed, that sort of thing.

He was pretty sure that Craig might just be not into that sort of thing. Or guys. One or the other. Or both.

"No, seriously, I need the help."

A few more seconds, then Craig's voice dropped half an octave. "Fine." Kenny heard the rustling of paper down the phone, and Kenny got ready to type.

"Okay, here's what I've got," Craig said. Kenny grinned to himself, glad that he could just wing it.

This feeling lasted all of about a femtosecond.

"In my opinion," Craig started, "I have to experience something in some way to be able to conclusively believe it's existence. This is the reason behind my not being enthusiastic regarding religion or the paranormal. Love is another such feeling."

"Some have told me that love manifests in many forms, depending on who it regards. The love between lovers, for instance, is one I have never had the misfortune to have to endure, and pray I never do as I fear it would only lead me to make bad decisions. Lovers ignore each others' flaws, even when they are glaring and have been pointed out by all people that on earth do dwell. This is something that I can only attribute to the presence of this thing love."

Kenny felt his heart sink in an amount of disgust as Craig continued - yet somehow, it did not surprise him. Craig continued.

"Of the love between family members I also have no experience as my family consists of three of the most tedious people that have the nerve to slither upon this mortal coil. My father I firmly believe to be incapable of any kind of positive emotion and my mother only slightly so. We greet each other by flipping each other off, and rarely speak. I have done my best to distance myself from each and every one of them, by among other things dying my hair and spending as much time away from them as I can. The only one I have even remote concern for is my younger sister, and then I doubt I would lift a finger to help her if she were bleeding profusely from either the head or chest.

"As for friends, these are people I find to be tolerable to be around whenever I am not spending time alone, which is my preferred way of spending time. Of those Clyde Donovan may be the one I most care for spending time around but I do not believe this translates to any form of actual love, Platonic or nay. Tweek Tweak is a spastic person who I worry for the health of, but if I did not feel obligated to make sure he does not suffer a seizure I could not see myself spending any reasonable portion of my free time around him."

Kenny, by now, was actively grimacing with repulsion, but Craig couldn't see him so he continued without pause.

"Token Black is tolerable and has a nice house. He is only moderately likable, though, and were it not for his deep wallet and vast array of toys, as with Tweek, I would not stake anything on my continued association with him. As for other people, Kenny McCormick is an insufferable ass who I only associate with because we share cigarettes and recently legalised drugs as interests. Butters Stotch is likable at first but quickly reveals himself to be exceptionally annoying, thus I avoid him. As you may have inferred, I do not consider myself to have friends, and as such I am unfamiliar with any feeling of love that might bond friends together.

"Finally, love for fellow man. To be blunt, I do not give any number of shits for people I don't know. They are not worth fretting over as they will never affect me, nor I them. As such I am unfamiliar with all forms of interpersonal love, and thus cannot help but conclude it to not exist. If it in fact does then as previously mentioned I can only consider it to be a manner of chemical defect and a source of vulnerability. It is a thing that seems to compel people to make idiotic decisions regarding their own safety, and on a more shallow level a waste of time and money. It is something I sincerely hope I never have to suffer and I consider every day I avoid love, if it indeed exists, to be a victory."

Kenny was silent for a few seconds, before he put his phone down, leaned back and made a quiet '_ugh!' _sound.

"Does that help?" he heard from the phone on the table, quiet, but filled with the exact same amount of emotion that the previous speech had had: None.

Kenny picked his phone back up and sat there with his mouth hanging open for a few seconds. Eventually he managed "…fucking hell, Craig, are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes I am."

Kenny thought for a second. "How can you go through life not loving anything?"

"How do you go through life loving everything?" Craig immediately shot back. Kenny didn't have a response to that.

"Well… Nothing?"

"Nope." Kenny thought frantically for a few seconds. Then an idea came to him.

"What about Stripe?"

The silence this time lasted a little longer. When Craig said nothing, Kenny continued. "What would you do if you saw Stripe sitting on the rail of a train track and there was a cargo train bearing down on him?"

"I'd drop everything," Craig immediately said, without pause and with complete conviction.

"Don't you think that qualifies?"

There was an even longer pause this time. Kenny suspected that Craig was taking the requisite time to come to the same conclusion. It took nearly a full minute but then the response came.

"You can't see it but I'm flipping you off right now."

"I love you too," Kenny said, grinning down his phone like he'd just taken a few too many lines.

"Fuck you."

"Please do."

"Seriously, Kenny, fuck you."

"Seriously, Craig, please do."

There was a huff. "I'm hanging up."

"Bye." Craig had already hung up.

Kenny looked at his sheet of paper again, no closer to a resolution. It was times like this he wished he had a partner. At least then he could write some manner of soppy love poem. Which was probably what Stan was doing.

As it stood he was a seventeen year old with a string of one night stands and no real relationship history. How was he supposed to write about this?

With a heavy sigh, Kenny started transposing what Craig had been saying, making just enough alterations to pass it off as his own work.


	3. Light

Burning.

Just on the inside of his eyes, there was a burning. The sun was up. Stan groaned inwardly and forced his way into a sitting position. He did hate mornings.

He'd been lying on his side and had his eyes perfectly aligned with a gap in the curtains so that at the right hour - 9.24AM if his alarm clock was to be believed - he could get a rude awakening from a hundred and fifty million kilometres.

There wasn't much prospect of further sleep so he forced his way up and felt the sunbeam on his skin. Alright, it was kind of nice when he wasn't being woken up so cruelly. Then he leaned back and let it fall on the person next to him. He smiled a little.

He lay down and faced the back of her head. She slept on her front, so that meant her head was off to one side, and right now she was facing the perfect direction for further sleep. Stan lay down facing her.

He admired her. Of course he did, hence why they were sharing a single bed and were wearing a total of one sock and one necklace between them. But it wasn't just that, it was right now with the sunbeam slowly making its way across her back, he could admire her that much more.

Just there. How the light caught on the tiny, otherwise invisible hairs on the back of her neck, where her sleek black locks parted to show the creamy skin beneath. How when that happened and he leaned just a tiny bit closer, he could smell the warm scent of… Well, what was it?

She used a lot of shampoo so that was in there. There was the slight afterstench of sweat from the night before, of course. There was the underscent of that deodorant she was so fond of, the one that smelled of elderflower. A few extraneous things he couldn't identify. He just had to call it the smell of _her_.

The slit of light was moving down her body, oh so slowly. By now it was running across her shoulders, casting shadow just below where her shoulder blades rose from her back and then down into the dip of her spine. Tentatively, not wanting to wake her, Stan moved his hand up and brushed a few stray strands of hair aside before putting one hand down on her back. He felt her react slightly, pulling ever so slightly away from his touch, but not by enough to separate hand from skin.

He stroked down her back, below that beam of sunlight that was illuminating her for him, then under her arm to where he felt a slight _bump bump bump _of her ribs. They didn't protrude or anything, but he could feel them. It was ever so slightly revolting, but it wasn't like he'd have her any other way.

Stan held her hip for a couple of seconds, at the point where her side curved in and back out. That was a point he loved to hold - for some reason, whatever reason, her skin was really soft there. Softer than the rest of it, anyway, if that was even possible.

It was at this point, just as he squeezed lightly, that she stirred.

"Stan," she murmured, "what are you doing?"

He couldn't answer. "Just…" He smiled at the back of her head. "I don't know what I did to deserve you," he said, feeling his cheeks starting to flare up.

Wendy shuffled around so that she was facing Stan. The sunbeam fell on her abdomen once she'd shuffled up a little, lighting up every slight rise and dip there. Stan couldn't have it any other way. "You don't deserve me," she said in deadpan, taking her turn stroking Stan. From his position the sunbeam was falling just across the bottom of his ribs, and she was taking in the detail, same as he'd done. "But then I'm not entirely sure I deserve you. Good match."

Stan wasn't sure how to respond to that, so when she pecked him on the cheek he couldn't help a fair amount of relief that he hadn't ballsed something up somewhere. He grinned at her. "You deserve better than me, Wendy."

"Then I'm going to have my work cut out for me, aren't I?"

Okay, damn. Stan managed a small laugh, then reached out for her. He took her by the shoulders and pulled her back down so they were both on their sides, facing each other. She rested her forehead on his, and he curled up a little.

"What day is it?" she asked.

"Saturday," he filled in.

"Why are we awake then?"

Stan glanced at his curtains, which was shining straight into Wendy's face now that they had shuffled around a bit. "Sunbeam woke me up," he said apologetically.

Wendy looked up at the window and squinted. Stan laughed a little bit, partially at her squinting but mostly just where the light played on her eyes a little, adding a slight lilac tinge to the deep blue that he loved so much.

She got up, clambering over Stan then reaching for the curtains. She pulled them shut tighter, cutting the sunbeam off. There was still light filtering through, of course, but now the room was dark enough to allow a little more sleep. Wendy returned to the bed then climbed onto Stan, straddling him. She leaned down, reached one hand behind his head and pulled him up.

Stan let her do what she wanted. He propped himself up on his arms just as she pressed her lips to his. He opened up, and her tongue dove straight in. For a few seconds they stayed there, Wendy moaning ever so slightly into the kiss, then she climbed off. Stan groaned.

"What? I'm tired."

He didn't have an answer to that. She took up her previous position on her side, facing away from him. Stan slid his hand under where her stomach, and pulled her close, so that his chest was against her back. He bent his knees up a little, forcing her to curl up slightly.

He pressed his nose into the back of her hair and inhaled that smell of shampoo and elderflowers. He felt her hands holding his on her abdomen.

Even without the light beam illuminating her, for Stan she was perfect. He'd change nothing about her for anything. She was the light of his life.

He loved Wendy.


	4. Dark

Darkness is my ally.

It hides me. It allows me to move. To disappear. To pounce.

It allows me to blend into the shadow.

For I am the night. I am the angel who will keep watch over the town at night. When it is most at its most vulnerable, I will always be there for it. I will protect its inhabitants. I will save them when they most need help.

I am Mysterion.

For five years now I have stood watch over this town. I have protected it from everything from crime to the Old Ones. I once hoped that I could retire, that one day the town would not need my help. That hope is gone from me now. I fear the town will always need a guardian angel, and that one day I will not be able to continue my duties.

I have reluctantly come to the conclusion that one day I will need to train someone to replace me. A successor. As averse as I am to the idea of a sidekick, I am ageing. It will only be a few years more before I leave this place, and I have no desire to leave it to rot in its own slime.

But then, what am I to do? My identity is already compromised enough. Too many people know who I am beneath the mask, and to train a successor would only compromise it further. I have considered each and every person who already knows and none are suitable.

I need someone younger, and who can be trusted. That rules out most people I can think of. While it is not an immediate problem, I should very much like to have it out of the way. It distracts me.

I stare out over the town. All seems quiet for tonight, at least. I can see flashing blue and red in the distance, but the lights do not move. Probably just a traffic stop, not worth investigating unless something more serious happens.

It allows me time to consider my problems. My rooftop allows me the privacy.

And I-

"You look like an absolute tit."

…oh, for fuck's sake.

I turn around. "Do you mind not interrupting me when I'm brooding, Craig?" I ask the bastard, not even bothering to do the voice. There's no point. He ruined the mood.

"Nope." I'm not even going to ask why he's up here. Is he following me? He must be, the universe never just lets this kind of shit happen.

Craig just stands there, the smug cunt. He's smoking because of course he fucking is. I walk on over to him and pull the cigarette right out of his mouth. He doesn't react physically, but he does give me a look.

"You know, if you're going to do me for underage smoking, you'd better turn yourself in as well or I'm going to kick your ass."

"I'd like to see you try," I reply, dragging on the cigarette before handing it back. Craig takes it, seeing what I was doing there. He smirks at me but says nothing else - I think he realised I might have a point.

I mean, look at me, I dress up at night and kick ass. I'm the whole reason my house has gotten reasonably peaceful, everyone knows I can take them all on at once and come out on top.

It takes a few seconds of silence for me to give up. I have to know. "What the hell are you doing up here, Craig?"

"I come up here a lot," he answers flatly.

"So do I."

"You're not normally up here at day. Same with me at night."

This is one of the things I hate about Craig. Not only does he have an answer for absolutely buttfucking everything, but he always says it in that goddamn monotone that makes it sound like he's mocking me for not knowing what that answer was. I'm never sure when he's actually going for that effect.

God dammit.

I go back to the corner of the building, trying to get back into that broody mood. It's calming for me and, you know what, it helps me concentrate.

I hear footsteps behind me, then I see a cloud of smoke dissipate just to my right. "What?" he asks.

"What?"

"What are you staring at?"

"The town?" I reply, treating the question like the moron it is.

"Yeah, I can see that, why are you staring at it? It's shit."

"It's my job." I hear a snort of contempt - I let that pass. I try my best to bring that nice darkened broody mood back up, but…

You know what, even his being there is scuppering any attempt. I fucking hate Craig sometimes. It wouldn't even be so bad if he wouldn't let me forget anything I ever do or say that he considers to be funny. For that exact same reason he has a pet name for me that I want to strangle him every time he says it.

Having to be called 'Princess' every time I pass him in the fucking hallways gets really grating after a while. At best it was a fucking phase.

Somehow 'Spaceman' just isn't a good comeback to 'Princess'. I'm dreading the day that the other guys find out. The princess and the spaceman, I'd never hear the fucking end of it.

I can't concentrate when he's around. It's a thing I can't do.

"Craig, do you mind kindly fucking off?"

"No thanks."

"You're here solely to piss me off, aren't you?"

"At last. He's clever." I close my eyes, exhale loudly, and try to at least ignore him, given he's not going the fuck away. He's come up to annoy me. Oh, how fucking special I feel.

"So…" he says.

"Fuck off."

"Don't you have crimes to stop?"

"Fuck off."

"Instead of just, like, standing there all night?"

"Fuck off."

"Looking like an absolute-"

I turn to him. "_Fuck off, Craig!_"

"Or?" he asks, smirking at me.

"Or I will fucking shove your ass off this building."

He squints at me for a second, then realises that I'm being serious. To my own surprise, I am. And, thank all the gods, he backs down. "Alright."

He turns away. "See you tomorrow, Princess." Because who the fuck didn't see that coming?

"See you, Spaceman," I groan back at him, before turning back. Once I hear the clatter of the fire exit steps I look back out over the town.

I…

Um…

I am the…

God fucking dammit Tucker.

I can't get the mood back. I can't concentrate like this. With a very loud sigh, I jump off the roof, land in a snow drift below, crumple my legs and roll back up. I'm calling it a night. I start running home. It's dark, it's late and there's school tomorrow.

And I'm going to have to deal with that cunt all fucking day. Oh, what fucking joy.


	5. Seeking Solace

Craig watched. He stayed at a large distance, but he could see nonetheless. Even from the far end of a hospital corridor, he could see the splotch of orange talking to a doctor.

Craig didn't enjoy feeling emotion. It was why he avoided it when he could. But right here, right now, he could not help feeling bad. That was the furthest he would allow himself to feel. Of course he knew what he was feeling. Compassion for starters. Sympathy. Sorrow. Maybe - just maybe - even grief.

He didn't enjoy it. He remembered those feelings from long ago, and he had no intention of ever feeling them again.

He saw Kenny bow his head and walk down the corridor, back towards him. Once he got back to the bench he sat down and put his face straight into his hands. Craig knew that was never going to be a good sign.

"How bad?" he asked.

"Coin flip," Kenny replied, muffled by his palms. Craig sighed sadly. That was probably worst. A good chance could mean he could get his hopes up. A bad chance could mean he could prepare himself for the worst.

A fifty fifty meant there was still hope. That would be worst. Everything going badly when there was still a chance, when there was still hope? That could break a man. Even one as strong as Kenny.

And this was one situation when Craig's baiting and snark just wasn't going to help out.

"She'll be fine," Craig tried.

"Weren't you listening?" Kenny snapped. "Coin flip. She _might _be fine. She _might _die too."

Craig turned and glared at Kenny. "I'm trying to be nice, McCormick, so-"

"Yeah, please don't!" Kenny retorted, cutting Craig clean off. "It doesn't suit you!" He ground his palms into his jaw and dug his nails into his forehead. Craig said nothing further. There was silence for a few seconds, then Kenny interrupted with a groan. A very long, drawn out and sickly one.

Hesitantly, Craig reached out and put one hand on Kenny's back. At the very least, he didn't shy away from it.

"It's pretty bad," Kenny said after the longest time. "Blunt trauma and stab wounds abound. Apparently it's a miracle that only one vital organ took any damage, and then it was a lung so…" He sighed. "Four broken ribs, two broken limbs, four score and seven fractures besides and about a third of her blood lost." His head sank lower, Craig noticed. His back was now practically an armrest. "It was fucking brutal. All for a net gain of sixty three fucking cents."

That was surprising. "Surely not that many fra-"

"_Of course not!_" Kenny barked. "I can't remember the actual number but it was fucking obscene, alright?" Craig blinked. He should have seen that coming.

"Still, that's…" Craig shrugged. "Insane. She's a fighter, she'll come out of it."

Kenny hummed lowly. "I'm just glad they didn't… Do anything worse."

"They've also been caught, I hear." Kenny said nothing. "Beat up to all hell. Found tied together in a basement in downtown." Still nothing. "An anonymous tip from someone in dire need of a throat lozenge. They found a giant fluorescent green question mark on the wall." Still nothing. "And on their faces." Again, nothing. "Perhaps one of us might know something about that?"

"Perhaps," Kenny muttered.

Craig sighed. "Kenny, if she can survive all that then I think her guardian angel might not actually be you."

"I'm pretty fucking sure a guardian angel that she can see and hear might be better for morale," he muttered acidly.

Craig turned to him, understanding hitting him like a train. "You blame yourself." It was a statement, not a question.

Kenny didn't respond directly. "I protect her from everything. When our family gets drunk… They don't touch us, of course, but she still gets scared. I'm the one who's there for her. I kept her safe in school, I'm always there for her." Finally, he sat up. Craig withdrew his hand. "Until now. I wasn't there when she needed me most."

Craig sighed, a tiny bit annoyed at that. "Kenny, listen to me. I'm saying this once and if you decide to not listen and beat yourself up over it, I'm just going to go."

Kenny's eyes narrowed, but then a weak smile got through. "That's better. I don't like it when you're nice to me, spaceman."

"Oh, shut up." Craig sighed, then swivelled around to turn to Kenny. "If you're going to beat yourself up over something that you _could _have stopped but probably couldn't have because you didn't fucking know it was happening, then you should beat yourself up over every single fucking violent death in the world."

"Well-"

"Shut up. Now, you couldn't have stopped what happened even if you had known because you were in detention at the time, weren't you?" Kenny nodded. "Something about smoking round the back of the school? It doesn't matter, you weren't there, there was nothing you could do. You could not have foreseen what happened so you couldn't have gotten there anyway. All of which really doesn't fucking matter anyway."

"Craig-"

"I swear if I have to tell you to shut up one more time you'll be in there with your sister." Kenny shut up for good. "You couldn't have stopped anything, and it is not, and never will be, your fault for failing to act unless you were in a position to. So stop fucking blaming yourself and worry about whether she'll be okay, alright?"

Kenny nodded once. Craig turned back, pulling his hat down by the flaps. "I swear to god, you are the most difficult mother fucker I spend time with. You always fucking have to be right and it always has to be your fault."

"Well it's not like you've ever been through this," Kenny muttered.

Craig suppressed a laugh just a little too obviously. Kenny looked towards him. "Have you?"

"I've been through similar," he said blankly. Kenny blinked. "Obviously not my fifteen year old sister being bludgeoned half to death by a bunch of drunkards but…"

"Yes?" Kenny pried.

Craig exhaled. Time for some coming clean.

"We once had a bet, didn't we?"

"We've had a lot of bets."

"When we were thirteen, over a bowling game. In the end we drew, neither of us followed through. At least, not immediately, you kinda came clean the next week."

Kenny nodded. "I remember. I wanted to know about your hair."

"Why do I have black hair when my parents do not," Craig said needlessly. "Well, here's your answer. My parents do." Kenny's eyes narrowed. "Or, at least my father does." Once again, the eyes narrowed to a squint. "Or, he did."

Kenny nodded. "Ah…" he breathed.

"When I was four, not long before preschool actually… Well, my mother had been having an affair with who you know as my dad. He got her knocked up with Ruby while my actual dad was out of the state. Visiting family. Him and mom, their relationship was drying up. He was still in love but she wasn't especially."

"Were they married?"

"No, my dad was never the type. Or so my mother said." Craig took a deep breath in, and locked his emotions away. He was good at doing that. "When he found out, though, that Ruby wasn't his, he just went into despair. He put a gun to his head."

"Oh," Kenny said quietly.

"Somehow it didn't kill him immediately. It's a very specific part of the brain has to be destroyed for instant death and he missed." Craig remembered. "He was in a coma for two weeks before he was declared brain dead and had the plug pulled."

Kenny frowned. "That's awful. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. But that's a lot of growing up for a preschooler to do. They said I'll have to be brave when I go to the funeral. I barely even understood what was going on. Then dad moved in… That is, Thomas Tucker moved in. My mom married him not long after."

"But those two weeks, when there was still a chance of him surviving… I know exactly what you're going through right now, Kenny. You feel like your stomach is on the verge of dropping out of your ass and tunnelling to the centre of the Earth. You feel like your heart took an unhealthy amount of crystal meth and is going to burst out of your ribcage like a fucking Alien. You feel like your whole world is about to crash down on top of you. You just want to die." Craig smirked slightly. "Except, not really an option for you is it?"

Kenny blinked twice before responding. "You do feel?"

Craig bit his lower lip for a second. "I had the privilege of finding out very early on that emotions will only ever hurt me. I did my best to estrange myself from my family. My new dad was easy and my mother only slightly less so. Ruby was a little more difficult." Craig shrugged. "But such a feeling is something that I have chosen to never have to feel again."

Kenny nodded solemnly.

"So believe me, I am trying to reassure you when I say that Karen will be alright." Craig looked past Kenny, down the corridor to the ward where Karen was being treated. "No god can be that much of a dick."

Kenny nodded, even smiling briefly before returning to the frown he'd had all afternoon. Then he leaned over and wrapped his arms around Craig. "Thank you," he whispered. Craig awkwardly returned the hug very briefly, then pushed Kenny away. "I know you're a complete cock but you're a good friend, spaceman."

Craig looked straight ahead for a second, then leaned back, resting his head against the wall. "If you want me to stop being nice, you can damn well stop it yourself." He checked the time. "Practice is almost over, your other friends will be here soon."

Kenny nodded. "Good." He exhaled, then repeated himself. "Good."

Craig stood up to leave. He straightened his jacket out a little, then turned back. "It'll be alright."

"Thank you."

"Don't." Then Craig made towards the exit, really hoping that it would be alright. For Kenny.


	6. Break Away

**I know it's late but I had serious block with this one. Sorry.**

* * *

"I want to end it," Stan said, firm and sad.

Kyle frowned. "You said twice already, you know. Why should I listen this time?"

"I'm serious this time."

"You said that twice already too. I swear, you guys are rockier than the Rock of fucking Gibraltar." Kyle leaned back in his chair and took Stan in, trying not to think too hard about how awful that analogy had been. "So why don't you just go to her and say you want out already?"

Stan hesitated. He looked at his lap, and fidgeted with his gloves a bit. "Well…" he started weakly, "I guess I… I mean, I still like her, don't get me wrong. I'd want to be friends with her afterwards, so I really…"

"Don't want to break her heart?" Kyle filled in, now turned back to his algebra homework.

"I guess." Kyle heard a thump - Stan had flopped back onto his bed.

"Don't mess the sheets up, my mother will crucify me."

"Sorry."

Kyle thought about Stan's little problem for a while, all the time solving for x and t in some horrid equation set. "Well… Do you have any ideas?"

"No." Kyle turned so that Stan could see his raised eyebrow. "Well, I mean I've thought about it but… I mean, I've thought of everything. I don't want to just say 'Wendy, I break up but I'd still like to be friends', because fuck knows I know how bad that feels." _You don't fucking say _Kyle thought. "And, what else is there?"

"You could be a complete ass," Kyle suggested.

"What?"

"Get caught cheating, be absolutely dickish about it. Make her leave you. It'll be better for her, at least."

Stan shook his head. "Never." He couldn't hurt Wendy like that.

"Then what the fuck else can you do?" Kyle asked, shrugging.

It was true Kyle had little to no experience in the world of love. He'd had one brief fling with that Cotswolds girl, and another since with Heidi Turner that had worked out about as well as building a nuclear fission reactor out of brie.

Breaking away from those things in both cases had been really easy for Kyle to do. Stan, though, Stan was in a committed relationship. Ish. On and off, anyway. But even so, it had been nearly five years, and while Kyle did have to admire that Stan finally had acquired the guts to break it off, he thought he was also trying to be a bit too delicate about it.

It presented an interesting problem. How do you abandon someone and not make them feel like crap about it?

"Can you give me a while on it, Stan?" Kyle eventually asked. "Only I have to finish this algebra tonight."

"Okay. Sure." Stan got up and showed himself out. "Bye, dude!" he yelled from the front door. At the lack of reply, he just left. He was about to go home, but given that he wanted a bit of sodding peace and quiet to think about this, he figured that maybe a better idea would be to find somewhere else.

Stark's Pond, then, sprang directly to mind.

Stan started walking, and his brain started ticking. How was he going to break this one?

He couldn't very well just say "Hi, Wendy. Hate to have to break this to you, but I don't love you any more." That'd just be a bit dickish. But then when it came to ways of doing it lightly, he could only draw blanks. It was no good.

Stan started thinking that maybe Kyle's idea of being incredibly dickish about the whole thing and making the break off seem like it was Wendy's choice wasn't so bad after all. But he didn't want to hurt Wendy.

He just didn't want them to be an item any more. He still kind of wanted to hang out with her sometimes. It wasn't a bridge he wanted to go around burning.

Maybe, he thought, it would be best for him to find someone else to go to for advice. Kyle might have been his best friend, but in his own words he wasn't romantically experienced. He thought who else might be. Clyde sprang to mind, but if his relationship with Bebe was anything to go by he wasn't going to be much use.

Kenny, now Kenny was a guy with a string of relationships behind him. He'd never seemed to have problems breaking it all off. But _then _it always seemed to be his partner who broke it off. Not him. So maybe he wasn't so great after all.

Token? No, Token and Nichole were as stable as they came. Once again, no good.

Well, he thought as he approached the pond, it looked like he was just going to have to figure this one out for hims-

Stan stopped. Then he ducked behind a hedge.

There she was.

Sat on the bench, looking out across the pond, there she was.

Wendy.

Sitting next to Kenny.

Their arms were around each other's shoulders, his head resting on her beret, and the sun playing through his hair as it set before them.

Stan felt a pang of betrayal, but before he confronted them he stopped himself. That made the whole thing a lot fucking easier, didn't it?

"What are you going to say to him?" Kenny asked.

Wendy dithered. Stan stayed still, watched and listened. "I don't know. I don't want to hurt him, and I still really want to be friends with him, it's just…"

"After that time in fourth?" Kenny filled in.

"Yeah."

Kenny rubbed Wendy's arm and pressed his lips to her temple. Stan heard that little exhalation that Wendy gave when she was smiling, like she was going to laugh. "You'll find a way, Wendy," he said quietly. "If anyone can find a way it's you."

Stan sighed - quietly, of course. He didn't want to blow his cover.

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Kenny asked.

"No!" Wendy halfway shouted. "No, I'll do it. I just… I need to figure out how."

"Okay. Okay, that's fine." Stan couldn't help a sad smile. He sent off a quick prayer that this wouldn't end as badly as all Kenny's other relationships and quietly padded away.

_Never mind, dude, I got this _he sent to Kyle as he returned home.

The next day in school, before classes began, Stan waited by Wendy's locker. He kept his gaze low, his hands in his pockets, and generally tried to look uninteresting. Now wasn't the time for attention.

"Oh, Stan," came the voice. He looked up. Wendy was there.

"Hey, Wendy, I need to talk to you."

Wendy nodded. "I guessed. About what, Stan?"

"Us."

Wendy dropped her bag, ready to put stuff away in the locker. "What is it?"

_Here goes. _"Look, Wendy, I don't mean to sound like an ass here, but… I've not really been feeling it these last few months, and… Well… I think you can do better."

Wendy cocked her head. "What do you mean?"

Stan chuckled slightly. "Wendy, you know what I mean. I'm a lousy boyfriend, okay? I can't do romance, I always hang with the guys rather than you, you can do better than me."

"Stan-"

"And… Well, there's no easy way to say this, but I… I don't really like you any more. Like, not in that way." Wendy looked crestfallen. "Look, I still- I'd still love to hang with you every so often, I still think you're wonderful, but you need someone else." Stan couldn't help glancing up as Kenny passed by, ignoring them. "Someone who you can be more stable with."

"Stan…" Wendy started. She stopped and considered for a few seconds, then started again. "Stan, I don't want to sound like an ass either but I've been feeling kind of the same way."

"Really?" Stan asked.

"Yeah. It's for the best."

"Oh, thank god, I was worried I'd-" Wendy cut him off with a hug. Stan was shocked for a second, but started hugging back. He took a lungful of her elderflower scent and took a handful of her hair for a few seconds, being as this was likely to be the last time.

He was going to miss the smell, the feel and the taste of Wendy Testaburger, sure. But it was all for the best.

He broke away. "This isn't goodbye forever, right?" he asked.

"Never," she replied. "We can still hang sometimes if you really want."

"Thanks, Wendy." Stan smiled. "I hope whoever you find is good for you."

"Thanks," Wendy said as she nodded, smiled back, and waved. Stan turned around and walked away. She didn't need to know that he knew. Did it sting? A bit. But it was all for the best.


	7. Heaven

Kenny opened his eyes. All he could see was white. The whole right side of his body was burning, but that was subsiding some.

More pressingly, where the hell was he?

_Okay _he thought. _No problem. Let's think about this. _

Kenny rather liked it when he dreamed lucidly. Something he'd taken to doing on a regular basis was thinking back, asking himself "How did I get here?" and if he was sure of an answer then he was awake. If he couldn't figure it out, he was in a dream. Very simple.

The last thing he remembered… He was with Craig. That much was certain. After the months of badgering him to at least try a date with him, which had ended up consisting of a KFC meal (they both had low budgets, it had been good enough), the two were practically inseparable.

They were walking home from the town centre. That was it. They'd been out to watch some crap film. They'd secured back of the theatre seats and promptly missed most of the film for dry humping.

Craig was taking him back to his house with the promise of more. They'd gotten to…

Where had they gotten to?

They'd passed the bank and the post office. He'd managed to cross the road...

Wait. No he hadn't.

He'd gotten halfway across the road. He'd heard Craig shout his name. He'd felt something smash into the side of his right knee, he'd collapsed onto a car bonnet, cartwheeled around in the air a couple of times before smashing back down into the ground.

Then he was here.

"Oh, brilliant," he muttered to himself. Dead. Again.

The white had taken on an ever so slightly golden tinge, putting him in the mind of sunlight. Glorious sunlight. It was warm, too. Comfortable. So where the hell was the sun?

Kenny took a couple of steps forward, taking in his position. Then, a voice spoke to him.

"Kenny."

The ground - an ever so slightly different white from the sunlight sky - had seemed to swirl around him slightly. Like he was controlling it.

No, that wasn't right. It was like the ground, or whatever this fog was concealing it, wanted to be close to him. The word 'friend' oddly came to mind. _It's the fucking ground. _But there was something strange about it - it was yieldy. It was like walking on a thick layer of feathers or something.

Kenny couldn't describe it. But he liked it.

"Kenny," that voice said again.

"What?"

"It's time."

Kenny looked up. It seemed appropriate. "Look, do you mind giving me something I can talk to? I feel a bit uncomfortable talking to nothing."

Somehow - and once again, Kenny was lost for words as to how this was possible - a section of the sunlight seemed to break down and come to his level. It coalesced and swirled into a vortex briefly, then materialised into a human form. A blonde, blue eyed man in a black sweater and black jeans. Wait - that was him.

Kenny was looking at himself except he was wearing black, not his orange winter clothes.

"Something else please?" he asked.

The face went through that vortex again, and this time Kyle came out, still in the all black clothing. Kenny groaned.

Before the face changed again, Kenny announced "Okay, that's… That'll do, alright. Now." He addressed Kyle, or whatever it was taking the form of Kyle, and made a point of glaring all the way through it. "What do you want?"

"It's time," it said in Kyle's voice.

Kenny hardened his glare. "Time for what?" Before it could respond, Kenny continued. "And be straight with me. I'll believe anything, just don't be all vague and mysterious."

The thing - Kenny made the admission to himself that it would just be easier to just refer to it as Kyle, though he didn't like it - smiled warmly at him. "It's over."

"_What did I just fucking say?_"

Kyle winced, but maintained the smile. "You're dead."

"I figured. That happens a lot. So if you're trying to get me into a state of shock or something, that's not going to work." Kenny cocked his head slightly. "Would you like to try again?"

Kyle's smile never faltered. And that was starting to get fucking annoying too. In fact, this whole place was getting fucking annoying. "You can stay though."

Kenny's glare vaporised. "What?"

"You've always complained and always suffered and always prayed that one day you wouldn't have to die any more," Kyle said, as he started walking towards him.

Kenny nodded, not being able to move his lower jaw from the position of gaping open.

"Now's your chance," Kyle continued. "You can just stay here. In Heaven. Permanently."

Kenny broke into a smile.

This was it.

A way out.

He took a step forward, ready to let everything go and finally get a bit of peace. He'd suffered enough, hadn't he?

All those times he'd been decapitated, run down, shot, stabbed, crushed, every time he'd died and nobody had remembered, that had been hell. Now he had an open and cordial invitation to stay in Heaven. Forever.

So why was he hesitant?

He stopped halfway to Kyle.

"What happens back there?"

"Back where?" Kyle asked.

"On Earth."

Kyle shrugged. "What happens when people die. You'll have a funeral. Be cremated."

"What happens to the people?" Kenny clarified.

Kyle blinked. "They'll mourn, of course. Celebrate your life. They won't forget you, if that's what you're worried about."

Kenny sighed loudly. "But will they move on?"

There was a pause. Kenny knew the type of pause. It was when there was something that they didn't want him to know and were thinking about how to get around it and word it nice and delicately.

"Most of them," Kyle tried.

"Most?" Kenny pressed.

"Your sister will be in deep grief for a number of months, before she bonds some with Ruby Tucker. And…"

"And?" Kenny urged.

Kyle sighed. "Craig Tucker. He will take several years to fully move on."

Kenny blinked once. Then he blinked again. He pressed his palms to his face, then messed his hair a little. It made no aesthetic difference, but it calmed him ever so slightly. "How," he finally answered, "do you expect me to say that I want to stay?"

Kyle narrowed his eyes in confusion. "You're saying no?"

Kenny sighed. "Probably."

"Why?"

Once again, he found himself having to think a little before he could respond. He needed the right words. "You're right, Kyle. Or whatever you are. I would very much like a way out. And… You know something, I wish I could say yes. I wish I could be that selfish, to be able to say I want to stay. And I want nothing more than an end to all this shit. Dying every fucking week, coming back and nobody remembering, I want out.

"But I can't do that. I can't do that to Craig, I can't do that to Karen. If you'd not given me a choice that'd be one thing, but I can't…" Words escaped him. "I just can't, okay?"

"Do you not think you've suffered enough?" Kyle asked.

"All the time," Kenny immediately admitted. "Sometimes I even ask myself why it has to be me, why it can't be someone else. And sometimes I do think I've done my part, that I... Maybe I deserve to move on. But when I'm in that situation, if I can make someone else have an easier time of it, then I really don't have a choice in the matter, because, here's the thing, it's got to be someone. Sometimes, someone has to suffer." He shrugged and smirked ever so briefly. "Might as well be me."

"Admirable," Kyle nodded. He considered for a long time. "I can't force you to do anything, of course, but know this. This is a one time only offer. If you say no, I can make no guarantee that another occasion can arise in which we can lift your curse."

"Why not?" Kenny immediately asked.

Kyle inhaled deeply and began. "There are a lot of circumstances that have to be right. What we are talking about is one deity with a series of limitations having to overcome another, with another series of limitations. An occasion is approaching - in a matter of hours - in which God can overcome C'thulhu and break your curse, but he will not act without your permission." Kyle lowered his head and put his hands in his pockets. "Hence here we are."

Kenny considered. "When is the next occasion?"

"I'm unfamiliar with the schedule of the Old Ones, I'm afraid," Kyle said apologetically. "So I can't say when next such an occasion will arise."

Kenny frowned for a second. "No. I can't, no."

There was a small pause. Kyle nodded solemnly. "You'll be returned to Earth shortly then," he informed Kenny. He turned and started walking away. "I hope, though," he added as he left, "that another occasion does come up. And I hope you join us. You're the sort of thing we like up here, Kenny."

"Thank you."

The vortex reappeared and Kyle dissolved back into the sunlight. The golden light paled into brilliant white and Kenny lost consciousness.

When he woke up, he was in bed. Not his bed, he was in _a _bed. He was naked save for the sheets, and someone was holding him around his midriff. Kenny turned his head enough to see who it was, as if he needed to. Craig was there, with his face buried in Kenny's blonde mess and his knees bending into Kenny. He was curled up around him.

Kenny felt safe here.

He shuffled around so that he was facing Craig, and in doing so stirred him. Craig groaned.

"Morning, Craig," Kenny whispered.

Craig's eyes forced their way open. "You're up early, Kenny."

"Sorry." Kenny wrapped his arms around Craig's back, and then threw his leg around his waist for good measure. He pulled himself up against Craig and pressed his lips to his, gaining an immediate response. Craig coaxed open Kenny's mouth and licked along his bottom lip, eliciting the slightest of mewls before he broke away. It was quick, but deliberate - he wasn't allowing Kenny enough time to get into the kiss, and as such Kenny immediately gave an exaggerated frown.

"You woke me up early, you're not getting any," Craig muttered as he refluffed his pillow - a bit of an awkward thing to do when he had someone nearly his size clinging to him, but he managed.

Kenny nodded glumly. "You do forgive me though, right?"

Craig sighed. "You know I do." He span Kenny back around so that his back was against his own front, and resumed spooning. Into his hair, almost beyond Kenny's hearing, he whispered "I love you."

Kenny grinned to himself. "I love you too, Craig."

"Shut up and sleep." And, like a light, Craig was out.

Kenny couldn't get the grin to go away for a few seconds before he drifted back off to sleep. He'd made the right choice, he thought to himself. If this was what he needed to give up, then Heaven could wait. Right now he had Craig.

That was all he asked for.


	8. Innocence

**Aaaand a short crappy thing as comedown from fifty eight and a half thousand words for the Big Bang story and LITERALLY NOTHING ELSE. FOR MONTHS! **

**God damn I need to make some more short and simple stuff. So, of the three ideas I had for this (using two separate definitions of innocence) this one was the easiest, just playing off Kenny being whatever the opposite of that is.  
**

* * *

It was lunch time.

Everyone was crowded in the cafeteria, eating sub par food and talking about the menial things that third graders generally talked about. Stan was sat down at his usual table, with Kyle on his right and Kenny on his left. Cartman was on the far side of Kenny, and part of Craig's gang were sitting opposite, with Craig in the middle, Clyde on the left and Tweek on the right.

"…and Tweek was kicking his ass," Clyde recanted. He was part way through informing Stan and his group of an altercation that Tweek had found himself in with one of the guys from the other third grade class that none of them bar Clyde seemed to know the name of. "But then Principal Victoria came along and broke the whole thing up, and get this."

He paused. Clearly he was waiting for someone to press further, and Stan wasn't going to be the one to give him the pleasure. "What happened?" Kenny pressed.

"Well, because Tweek's how Tweek is," Clyde continued, jerking his head at the boy with the built in vibration feature, "she just, like, assumed it was all Douglas' fault. Threw him in detention for a week."

Stan glanced at Tweek, who was doing his best to not pay attention. He was, instead, pouring the third cup of coffee he'd had since he sat down. "Seriously?"

"Uh huh!" Tweek confirmed. "You guys should have been there, you missed a real show."

"So," Clyde continued, "anyone else had anything interesting happen?"

Stan pushed his empty plate away. "Nope, not here."

"Oh," Kenny exclaimed, perking up. "I found out this new joke you'll like."

Kyle leaned back so he could see Kenny. "Dude, your jokes don't ever make sense."

"Nah, this one was in Harry Potter, I really think you'll like it," Kenny continued. For lack of a better topic, everyone leaned in to listen. "Okay, so there's this guy who has a Japanese friend. When this friend visits home, he invites the guy along with him, like, as a vacation. The guy takes him up on the offer.

"So they get to Kyoto, and the guy checks into a hotel. Because he's got nothing better to do, he hires a prostitute and brings her back and they go at it like dogs. Throughout, she's shouting and screaming something over and over again. He has no idea what it is, he doesn't speak Japanese, but it sounds like she's really into it and it's really good, so he sets about memorising what it is she's saying so he can impress his friend.

"Next day, they're playing golf. And the guy's friend manages a hole in one. The guy decides to shout this phrase he's memorised as loud as he can, and when he does his friend turns to him and asks 'What do you mean, wrong hole?'"

For a few seconds, there was silence. Then Cartman was the one to ask "And?"

"Well, that's it," Kenny said, staring at Cartman in slight confusion.

Stan blinked. "Okay, look, Kenny, we all know you're trying your hardest, but that just makes no sense."

Kenny sighed. "Okay, let me explain. So this phrase the guy's saying is 'wrong hole', right?"

"Yeah, we got that," Stan said, "what we didn't get is why that is supposed to be funny."

"Okay," Kenny continued, "look, so he was with a prostitute the night before and-"

"What's a prostitute?"

Kenny looked at Clyde. Even behind his hood, Stan saw his face fall. "Really?"

Everyone else at the table looked at him, waiting for the explanation. "Ugh, okay…" Kenny groaned. "So when you want to fuck someone-"

"What's fucking someone?" Kyle asked. Kenny snapped his head to look at him.

"_What?_"

Kyle shrugged and downed what was left of his drink. "I always thought fuck was just a word that adults don't like kids using that they say when they're angry or something."

For a long second, Kenny stared at him. "Okay, it's an alternative word for having sex with someone."

"Oh." Then, inevitably, Kyle opened his mouth again. But, before he could ask the question, Cartman beat him to it.

"The fuck's having sex?"

Kenny's moth hung open. Of course, nobody could see it doing that, being as he'd long since finished eating and had reset his hood so that it was back covering the lower half of his face. "Are you fucking kidding me right now!?"

Everyone bar Tweek shook their heads, and even then it was hard to tell if Tweek had meant to shake his head and it had just gotten mixed into his usual shudders, or if he just hadn't been paying attention.

"Right," Kenny huffed, "so say when a man and a woman want to have sex."

"Uh huh?" Stan prompted.

"Basically, you know when your dick gets hard?"

Stan's eyes widened. "The fuck does that have to do with anything?"

Kenny buried his face in his hands. "Look, just stick with it, it's kind of important."

"Sex sounds fucking gay, dude," Cartman chipped in.

"Fuck off," Kenny shot back blankly on impulse. "Anyway, when that happens, the guy can stick it in a woman's vagina, and-"

"A what?" Clyde asked.

Kenny turned, face somehow falling further than it already had. "For the sake of fuck, _please _tell me this is some kind of prank you're pulling on me."

"…no."

By now Stan was gaping, ticking this concept over in his head. Kenny elaborated on the missing information. "Well, girls don't have dicks," he explained, sounding like he was at the very limit of his patience as he spoke. "Instead they have vaginas."

"Are they like dicks?" Cartman asked.

Kenny shook his head. "They go in rather than out. Anyway-"

"Dude, that's fucking gross!" Kyle protested loudly.

"Look, shut up a minute, alright?" Kenny shouted. "What happens is a dude can put his cock, when it hardens, into one and it feels-"

Kenny was cut off by five very loud, very disgusted groans and one agitated yelp from Tweek, who was the one to make a more comprehensible protest. "The hell would anyone do that?" Then, after a brief second, he also asked "Why are you even telling us about this?"

Kenny looked between everyone at the table desperately. Everyone was staring at him. When he turned to Stan, he shook his head slowly. His meagre attempt to generate a few laughs had very thoroughly fallen flat on its face and brained itself on the pavement. So, giving up completely, he climbed out of the table making sure to kick an unoccupied portion of the opposite bench as he did so, grabbed his tray and stormed off, muttering "I don't have to fucking impress you guys."

As soon as he was out of earshot, Stan turned to the others. "Anyone have any fucking idea what he was on about?"

"Nope," Craig said. He hadn't even bothered speaking up during the exchange. "I wouldn't be surprised if he was just making it up. Don't know why you bother with him."

"Because half the time, he just shuts up," Kyle filled in. "He's mostly harmless."

Stan finished off his drink, sighing and doing his best to forget the entirety of the conversation that had just happened. But then, he realised something.

"You know something, guys," he said, "let's assume that what Kenny said actually happens for a second-"

"We'd really rather not," Craig protested.

"-but he never explained what wrong hole meant."

Before any curious silences could descend, Clyde looked directly at Stan. "Let's hope he never fucking does, shall we?" Stan conceded that point in silence. Clyde turned back to his dinner. "Just as long as we can all agree that Kenny's one sick mother fucker and not think too hard about what the hell he was talking about, I'm pretty much happy." Nobody particularly wanted to disagree with that.


End file.
